


The Most Terrible Time of the Year

by hazelNuts



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Autumn, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, POV Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 12:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12582072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelNuts/pseuds/hazelNuts
Summary: Stiles does not like autumn, and today the season has given him every reason for his dislike.





	The Most Terrible Time of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> If you think I forgot any tags, please let me know in the comments.

Stiles hates autumn. Sure, he gets the appeal of the turning leaves, the pumpkin spice lattes, and Halloween, but autumn is mostly cold and windy and wet. Said cold and wind and wet make his Jeep break down more often, which gets _him_ cold and wet when he tries to fix it. Case in point: half an hour ago when the Jeep spluttered to a stop and he had to call a tow truck because he couldn’t figure out what went wrong and duct tape it back together.

The driver looks at him apologetically. ‘I could crank the heat up a little, but that’s all I can do right now.’

‘Much appreciated,’ Stiles says, before blowing on his hands. ‘Are you new at Meryl’s?’ He has a very close relationship with his favourite garage.

‘Kathy,’ the driver introduces herself. ‘It’s nice to finally meet you.’

‘I want to know what the others have told you about me, but I’m mostly afraid to ask,’ Stiles huffs. He plucks at the wet sleeves of his hoodie and holds them front of the fans blasting warm air into the cab.

Kathy chuckles. ‘Mostly about the contract.’

‘Right,’ Stiles grins. The first time he called Meryl to pick him up was when he was seventeen. In return for doing the absolute bare minimum on his car and making almost no profit, Stiles promised that once he got an actual job, she’d be the one he’d hire to make the car duct tape free. Meryl had been sceptical, of course, so he’d drawn up and signed a contract. It was on a napkin, but it still counted.

‘She got it framed, you know,’ Kathy says. ‘In one of those kiddie frames with cars and a race track.’

‘I know. I’m the one who got her that frame.’

They soon reach Meryl’s, and Kathy disappears to get Stiles a towel and a hot drink while Stiles calls Derek to pick him up, watching Meryl and her son Johnny unhook his car.

Kathy whistles when she pops the hood. ‘That is a lot of duct tape. There has to be some kind of record for that, right?’

‘If there was I could probably make money off it, and I wouldn’t be here,’ Stiles mumbles, not looking up from the forms she gave him with the towel and steaming mug of coffee.

‘Because we would’ve fixed this beauty up and it be purring like a kitten,’ Meryl adds.

Stiles looks up and winks, shooting her double finger guns. When he’s done with the forms he watches Meryl explain how to treat his Jeep to Kathy, and sips his coffee. Johnny is working on an old Toyota next to them, head bobbing to the music floating from the speaker system. All four of them stop what they’re doing when the roar of the Camaro drowns out the music.

Watching Derek get of his car, all tight jeans and leather jacket, is a sight to behold. Especially the first time, and Stiles can’t blame Kathy for staring. After exchanging greetings with Meryl and Johnny, and introducing himself to Kathy, Derek walks up to Stiles.

‘Hey,’ he smiles, then presses a quick kiss to Stiles’ lips. ‘Ready to go?’

‘God yes, I’m freezing,’ Stiles says. ‘I need some dry clothes.’

Eyebrows scrunched in concern, Derek takes Stiles’ hands between his. The scrunch intensifies, and Derek lets go, shrugging off his jacket.

‘Now you’ll get cold,’ Stiles protests when Derek takes off his sweater too.

‘I’m not the one in danger of getting pneumonia,’ Derek points out.

Stiles can’t argue with that. And when he pulls Derek’s sweater, warm from Derek’s body and smelling like him, over his head, he can’t remember why he protested in the first place.

A quick goodbye, and then Stiles is comfortably sitting in the passenger seat of the warm Camaro.

‘You want to pick up Chinese, or order so it’ll get there the same time we do?’ Derek asks, turning the car back onto the road.

‘Order,’ Stiles says. The warm sweater is helping, but his jeans and sneakers are still wet and uncomfortable.

Forty minutes later, Stiles is wearing dry clothes and has his still cold feet tucked under Derek’s thigh. It’s still raining, and every once in a while a leaf blows past the windows. The warm food is turning the chill from the rain into a distant memory, and he starts to think that maybe autumn isn’t so bad. As long as it stays outside, and he’s inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://fandom-madnessess.tumblr.com/).


End file.
